


Blood Night

by bittenfeld



Category: X-Men, X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Rough Kissing, Sexual Wrestling, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a psychic energy explosion, Wolverine and Cyclops find their sexuality twisted and focused on each other, against their wills.<br/>Logan stepped close. “You really think I’m gunna rape you, don’t you?” Nervously Scott looked away. “…umm, no,” he lied. “Yeah you do,” the man known as Wolverine asserted. “You think I’m a rutting animal.” “Of course not,” Scott insisted, and tried to mean it…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You got any reservations about this, Summers?” the growl rasped behind him, hot breath close to his ear.

A tight intake of breath, a quick shake of head. “No,” he lied … _and I hope those bastards enjoying the show get their balls fried off by the time we’re done_ … Ruby-crystal gaze swept over three grinning figures before them, and in helpless anger Scott jerked at the chains spread-eagling his arms.

The slimeball nearest the door grinned, licking thick wet lips in eager anticipation. Suggestively he slid a casual hand along the barrel of the AK-47 resting in his lap.

… _maybe I’ll take him out first_ …

“Come now, gentlemen,” the older blond man across the room urged gently. “Surely this is not a difficult decision? Amuse us with this request, and your beloved teacher will be allowed to retain his mind a little longer.”

… _but he’s going to have to wait his turn… The one to go first will be Mr. Chatorf_ … Laser sight lingered on the gang-leader safe behind Xavier’s chair. _Just like these fucking cowards to take sanctuary behind a man in a wheelchair._ Even if he could free his hands to raise the protective visor covering his eyes, Scott couldn’t target the guilty man without blasting the professor, too. And that was the only reason as well that Logan didn’t simply slash their chains and spearhead an attack against their tormentors.

All he and Logan could do was keep the bastards distracted until the cavalry arrived. Neither of them had the requisite psychic abilities to free their guardian from the savage mental lock which Chatorf had managed to grip onto the professor’s brain and heart … _oh god, Jean, what’s taking you so long? …c’mon… hurry up!_ …

Logan’s body heat was a palpable thing close behind his back, raised to fever heights from the rage directed at their captors. Scott could only imagine the level of animal fury that this half-wild man was fighting back right now.

“Do it,” Scott hissed under his breath.

But even with Scott’s permission, Logan hesitated for another moment, breath hot and hard.

Scott knew he couldn’t hold onto his own resolve much longer. “God, Logan, do it now!”

“All right,” the man snarled low, and Scott thanked whatever gods there were that he wasn’t the object of that focused fire-hate. “Then, just hold real still, Summers, and let me do all the work.”

Sharp skritch of metal against metal, and Scott flinched reflexively at the nerve-quivering sound. But even in that split second before he reacted, adamantine claws raked up his body from thighs to nape in one savage gash, yet so surgically precise that they ripped only his outfit open while barely grazing the sweaty skin beneath. An icy shudder shivered through Scott’s muscles in the wake of the triple-razors’ pass. The shredded material fell away from his body, leaving him exposed and open. … _oh god, what was he in for?_ … However, to save the professor’s life he knew he’d do anything. Even this.

Another teeth-grating rasp as the blades retracted, then powerful hands grasped his hips.

“Hang in there,” the husky voice reassured gruffly, hot breath ruffling his hair. “It’s gonna be a rough ride.”

Scott braced himself.

Then something plunged into him, deep and hard and huge.

And Scott yelled.

* * * * *

With a gasp, Scott jerked awake and sat up. Mouth and throat dry. Sweat dribbled down his face; beneath his T-shirt he felt it trickle down the channel of his spine … _god, how many more nights like this?_ A week past, and still no let-up of the night terrors. And a raging hard-on. He threw off the covers and sat up, trying to catch his breath. The room and darkness were claustrophobic, so he got up, as he had the last several nights, and started roaming the halls.

He thought about going to Jean’s room for some comfort and reassurance, but he had done that the first night, and it hadn't done any good. And besides, it was 1:00 in the morning, and he didn’t want to wake her up just to put up with his nightmares. No doubt she would insist that it was not an imposition, but he had no right to force that on her, even though she was his girlfriend.

When he had gone to her the first night, they had tried to make love – to get his mind off the nightmares. But the erection which he’d developed while dreaming about Logan, he lost with her, and was impotent. Which only compounded his distress. She had offered to listen if he wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t – he couldn’t.

The cavalry had finally arrived at Chatorf’s mansion – in the form of Jean and Storm – just as he and Logan were climaxing. The two women had seen, and understood after Xavier had explained later. Scott felt only the briefest relief that at least it was the two of them, and not the younger members of the team to see it.

Having sex with Logan – in that brutal situation – was like being fucked by a wild animal. Logan lived up to his nom de guerre. Wild and fierce, snarling as he fell into orgasmic rhythm, ramming, pounding into Scott, all Scott could do was hold on, while his asshole was reamed. Pain streaming up his nerves; yet, despite that, he too was swept up in the animal frenzy. Pain seared his anus, filled his abdomen, clutched his chest, his heart. Scott was impaled, as surely as if Logan had thrust those talons right through his chest. He had almost passed out, transcending into massive orgasm. It was nothing like a normal orgasm, nothing he’d ever felt with Jean… what happened?… It was as though his own laser power had reversed itself and consumed his whole being in one explosive ruby flash.

He didn’t even remember the rest of it, although he thought he remembered Jean and Storm in a blaze of electric and psychic wildstorm. He thought he had vomited before he passed out. When he awoke, he was on a stretcher in the aft of the Blackbird, headed home. Beside him lay the professor and Logan, both still unconscious.

But since then, something had changed inside his head, and his whole sexual energy shifted its focus from Jean to Logan. He would deliberately try to imagine himself and Jean in bed making sweet hot love, but the powerful image of Logan would superimpose itself. He’d conjure up the soft silken feel of her skin, the sweet apple fragrance of her hair, but they would waft away like sparkling dust motes, usurped by Logan’s scent of pine and musk, strong and pungent like a bull elk in rut; of its own accord, Scott’s cock would rise in warm remembrance – and in its wake, hot shame.

Abruptly Scott jerked himself out of his near-sleep-walking daze, back to the present, only to disconcertedly find himself before the door to Logan’s suite again. Tonight he had deliberately walked a different route, so as not to end up here. But his subconscious mind obviously had its own agenda.

And he was paralyzed by the same indecision – he felt the overwhelming urge to talk it out with the gruff man, and yet couldn’t actually bring himself to do it. He and Logan had never been on the friendliest of terms anyway, and to discuss the intimate grotesquery which they were both forced into… No, it would be best just forgotten.

If only Scott _could_ forget.

But before he could make up his mind to either knock or walk away, the door opened, and Logan grunted, “Come in, Summers, before you wake up the whole place, tramping around like a bull moose in heat.”

Scott entered, apologized, “Sorry, I can’t sleep. I thought walking would clear my head, but it doesn’t.” Feeling more than a little tongue-tied, all he could think to say was, “I’m sorry for… uh…”

Logan countered, “For what? Saving the professor’s life?”

“No… no, of course not… it had to be done… we didn’t have any other choice…”

“That’s right, kid. So why are you losin’ sleep over it?”

“Why are _you_?” Scott retorted.

Logan just glared. “Who says I am? Been sleepin’ like a baby.”

… _yeah… you wake up every hour and cry_ …

For a long minute neither spoke.

Logan probed bluntly, “You and Jean still warming each other’s sheets?”

The question pierced Scott’s chest. A tiny shake of head, as he admitted, “Not since… the incident…” He felt awkward discussing anything intimate or personal with this man. They were allies, but grudging ones at that.

* * * * *

The next day found him alone in the library with the professor. He half-wanted the professor’s input, and half-didn’t.

Xavier let him tell it in his own good time. At first, Scott just said, can’t Xavier read his mind, instead of making him actually go through the discomfort of putting it into sentences? But Xavier said, no, it would help clarify Scott’s own mind to put it into words.

Scott felt shame and confusion. He had nothing against homosexuality, but he himself had never felt anything like this before for a man. And especially not for Logan. Logan was a hard man to get close to, difficult to work with, and impossible to really like, although Logan and the professor seemed to finally hit it off after a few rough starts. Scott respected him deeply as a teammate, trusted him completely in the field. But to be lovers… no.

Xavier confessed, “I’m partly to blame, I fear. I guess that there was some kind of psionic warp or explosion created when Jean and Storm rescued us. Chatorf was a powerful telepath, able to interfere with my mind and body. I tried to hold him at bay, but I could feel him, like acid tendrils burning the edges of my mind. Add to that, Jean’s psychic attempt to assist, and Storm’s lightning blast as the two of them burst in, and you and Logan locked together physically and mentally in powerful animal needs and emotional turmoil, all of it uncontrolled. And the resulting multi-level unbalanced psychic maelstrom caused any number of unknown repercussions. One of which was opening a channel between the two of you, commingling and redirecting your sexual energies toward each other.”

“Will it stop? can we reverse it?” Scott demands.

The professor could only shake his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps it will lessen over time – perhaps even revert instantaneously.”

“And maybe it won’t.”

“Maybe it won’t.”

* * * * *

Shutting down the lights in the Blackbird’s hangar, Scott entered the complex and headed down the sterile empty corridor to the elevators and an evening of report-writing. A team-commander’s work was never done.

And there would _be_ reports tonight. And performance evaluations to be critiqued, and training series to be organized. The professor would reassure that at least they’d been successful tonight, and that that was what counted. But too much had come off sloppily, and another time that could mean disaster.

But first of change of clothes, then supper.

“Summers,” a voice hissed from the ready-room as he passed by; and Scott nearly jumped out of his leathers. A deep voice whose vibrations set off a buzz of wanton lust in his groin.

Logan appeared in the doorway. Logan serious and focussed. Logan half-dressed in tight jeans, stripped to the waist, t-shirt in hand.

“Uh, yeah,” Scott acknowledged, hastily covering his loss of composure. Suddenly the stiff leather of his suit pulled uncomfortably across his crotch. He shifted his stance an inch to relieve the pressure. “Umm, what do you want?”

“What do _you_ want, Summers?” the other man retorted bluntly, and the sharpness of his gaze penetrated the ruby visor right into Scott’s eyes. “What do you expect from me?”

Every alarm in his body tingled, but Scott stepped into the conference room, fully aware that the rest of the team had already gone upstairs to dinner and relaxation; and only the two of them remained down here in the basement. “I, uh, don’t expect anything from you, Logan,” he replied deliberately blandly, “except teamwork on our missions.”

“Screw the missions,” the shorter huskier man snapped back. Through an open door on the other side of the room, Scott could see Logan’s locker open in the suiting-up area and leathers tossed across a chair. He didn’t want to look at Logan.

But Logan forced the issue, stepped up close to accuse, “You look at me all the time, begging with your eyes, then turn away without a word. How much control do you think I have?”

Even now, Scott fought the urge to turn away, rather than face this raw truth. He couldn’t prevent his gaze from glancing down, breath catching nervously. “Logan, I…”

“Look, I don’t understand this either,” Logan interrupted abruptly. “And I don’t want it any more than you do. But it’s messin’ with our minds, and we gotta do something. And the way you’re avoiding me doesn’t help matters. Today it almost screwed the mission.”

“We were all affected by what happened at Chatorf’s place – even Ororo… and Jean…”

“Yeah, but ‘Ro and Jean aren’t wakin’ up in the middle of the night in a hot sweat over each other.”

Scott flinched, frowned. “Well, what do you intend to do – throw me across the table right now and screw me?”

The sharp flash in Logan’s eyes made Scott wish he hadn't asked that. If it ever came down to a real hand-to hand fight between them, especially inside the complex where Scott couldn’t utilize his optic blasts, Logan could easily overpower him, even without the claws. He was a tough street fighter, yet just as at ease with the finesse of martial arts. The smaller man fought with the ferocity and tenacity of a cornered wolverine.

“No.” Animal fire glared. A quick flicker of gaze over Scott’s body. “But we can’t afford any more mess-ups like tonight, while you work out your personal problems.”

“Well, what do you want to do about it, Logan?” the younger man riposted. “Have you got all of _your_ personal problems solved already?”

That touched a nerve, and Scott regretted it the moment the words left his lips. Logan stiffened. Diamond spark flashed in grey eyes. Pain far deeper than simply last week’s incident haunted this man. Scott’s own life had changed drastically since the advent of his laser-sight fifteen years ago. But in that same decade-and-a-half, this man had lost everything after the military experiments: his wife, his memory, his entire past – body and mind violated absolutely. A horror that should never happen to any man.

“I’m sorry,” Scott apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Logan just shook his head, eyes tight. And turning away from the other man, he stepped over to the door.

Then Scott heard the door close, lock snap shut. He jerked, shifted back an inch, the backs of his thighs bumping the table edge.

It was going to happen.

  
 _to be continued_ …


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan stepped close. “You really think I’m gunna rape you, don’t you?” Nervously Scott looked away. “… umm, no,” he lied. “Yeah you do,” the man known as Wolverine asserted. “You think I’m a rutting animal.” “Of course not,” Scott insisted, and tried to mean it…

Turning back, Logan stepped toward Scott, with that natural slight swagger of gait, face taut, gaze tight and pinned on the taller man.

Under the intense glower, Scott would have moved back, had there been any further back to move. But there was none, just the table edge; and finally, within arm’s reach, Logan stopped and frowned at his teammate.

“You really think I’m gunna rape you, don’t you?”

More than slightly flustered, Scott looked away. “Umm, no,” he lied again. “Of course not.”

“Yeah you do,” the man known as Wolverine asserted, and shifted sideways. “You think I’m a rutting animal.”

“No,” Scott insisted, and tried to mean it. But he could sense the tension in the other man, and smell the aroma of lust – only it was his own as well that he was breathing in… and the warm musky scent aroused every muscle and nerve in his body.

Right now his leathers were painfully stiff, binding his throbbing hard-on; the collar squeezing his neck, until he felt he couldn’t breathe. Nervously he reached a finger up to loosen the material at his throat, and wished he could unzip the pants as well. But there he hesitated – because once he did that, there would be no evading the outcome.

His nostrils flared to breathe deeper… god if Logan was an animal, so was he… and maybe he _did_ want to be thrown across the table and be ripped deep… maybe that was the dream that he kept waking up from night after night… _No, it couldn’t be_! _no_ …! yet maybe something inside him wanted Logan to grab his arms and throw him down, something inside that knew he wouldn’t resist, but revel in the roughness.

Logan’s gaze pierced him as though the older man knew exactly what he was thinking, and could do it without any hesitation.

Instead, he moved a short distance away to half-sit on the table edge, arms folded, and announced. “The door’s locked, Summers. No one’s gonna bother us, and we’re not gonna leave this room until we sort this out. So make up your mind. Do we each try hold off and live with this tension for god knows how long… or do we fucking do something about it _now?_ ”

“I… I don’t know….” Scott stuttered, turning away to put some room between them. “The professor said it might fade – ”

“But it might not,” Logan cut across. “Yeah, I talked to him too. Even if it does…” He got up, shifting closer to Scott’s turned back. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”

Scott flinched as Logan stepped closer, unable to hide his own reaction as he turned and looked into the other man’s face.

“I ain’t gunna hurt you, Summers,” Logan said quietly, his voice almost a low growl.

Scott frowned, and Logan caught the slight flash in the younger man’s expression. Disappointment? “ – unless you want it rough?”

Scott’s breath caught in his throat. How could Logan know that? Too many of his dreams of late had centered around the feeling of Logan’s solid body pressing him down, pinning him.

Logan’s hands moved on their own, pushing Summers back, gently but firmly until the younger X-Man’s back was flat to the table. “All you gotta do is ask, kid.” Slowly he raked a single claw down Scott’s thigh, too light to cut but enough to make Scott flinch, the crotch of his leathers too tight to bear. A whimper broke from Scott’s lips.

“If you want it rough, I can give you that,” Logan growled, leaning over Scott, close enough to steal the air from his lungs. “But you’ve gotta be the one to decide.”

Scott bit back another whimper as Logan closed the gap, taking the younger man’s mouth in a crushing kiss. The kiss was intense but somehow undemanding, as if Logan was waiting for Scott to react. When he did, opening his mouth and letting his head drop back, moaning as Logan devoured him, Scott found himself canting his hips, rubbing against Logan’s denim-clad thigh.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Wolverine growled.

And with that, any obstacle melted away. “Yes! god yes!” Scott gasped through gritted teeth, hands grasping husky naked shoulders. “ – god, Logan…”

“God’s got nothin’ to do with this, kid,” the gruff man pronounced, grabbing a fistful of short hair at the back of Scott’s head. And yanking him back, Wolverine bent over him and forced another kiss, harder, tongue forcing entrance, penetrating, violating, as if that act was fucking itself.

Desperately, helplessly Scott writhed on the conference table, gripping Logan to himself, his own tongue vying with the intruder. And everything seemed so right – what had he been balking about? libido took over and nothing else mattered, hands clutching, trying to grab everywhere at once, lungs trying to drink each other’s breath.

Drawing up one knee, to rest his foot flat on the hardwood, Scott began to thrust his hips involuntarily. The leather was impossibly uncomfortable now… he had to release his swollen throbbing flesh… had to... had to… one hand went to his groin…

But Logan’s hand was there first, undoing the zippers and fastenings, pulling open the jacket, even as their mouths still tried to eat each other alive. And when the hand pushed inside the open fly and gripped the hot sweaty bulk nestled in cotton undershorts, Scott thrust up hard, body rigid, and a keening sound wailed from his throat – a sound he hadn’t even realized he was capable of making.

“Logan…” was all he could manage, panting, breath taut. Air escaped between his teeth, as a warm hand finally pushed through his fly, found its way into his shorts and grasped his throbbing cock and balls… He grinned, breathless. “I… think… it’s working.”

“Good.” Tiny smile. “Tell me what you want.”

Wonderful little stings zipped all through Scott’s nerves from Logan’s gentle but persistent manipulations. “Anything! Anything you want…” he whispered/moaned. “But maybe… we better get off the table… if we scratch it, Xavier will have our asses…” Delight brightened his features, and he grasped the wrist of the hand which was promising all sorts of good things to him. .“…oh god Logan…”

Logan said nothing. Withdrawing his fingers from the fly, he grasped the waistband of Scott’s leathers and undershorts, pulling him up off the table and muscling him down on the Persian carpet, then worked the garments down off hips and thighs. Scott squirmed to assist as best he could, lifting his buttocks up, and helping with his own hands; pulled off his shoes, stripped the rest of the clothes off and pushed them to a far corner of the rug. The wool prickled his naked ass, but he could overlook the slight discomfort, beneath the exciting intensity of Logan’s interested gaze, as he lay there, propped up once again on his elbows, naked except for a thin t-shirt, knees spread invitingly with the dark man kneeling between them.

Logan’s hands rested on Scott’s knees, while hazel eyes observed the acquiescent body offered to him. In the single lamplight of the room, Scott’s skin reflected white except for the dark thatch of pubic hair which shadowed his crotch and nestled the bulk of his swollen genitals. Beneath the scrutiny and nothing more, Scott felt the ticking pulse of blood fill his cock and lift it up to attention, waiting for Logan’s caress.

But still Logan didn’t touch where Scott wanted him to, but rather took the time to unfasten his own jeans, and remove them.  Tossing them onto the pile of Scott’s clothing, he then undid his boots, and finally underwear.  As it was freed, his own near-full erection arched up against a flat-muscled belly, and the blood-filled scrotum hung heavy between strong thighs.

Scott’s happy grin widened in admiration at the sight of his lover’s equipment, and inquisitive fingers had to reach out and explore the other man’s body, as if for the first time – and it _was_ their real first time… the scene in Chatorf’s mansion hadn't really counted.  The weight hefted satisfactorily in his hand; and now it was Logan’s turn to draw a slow deep breath as he watched the fingers tease him, carefully curl about his shaft and begin to milk it, lancing tiny electric tingles deep into his loins.

“Tell me what _you_ want,” Scott murmured, eyes just as bright and intense as his lover’s.  “Let me try to make it good for you, Logan.”

 Logan’s shuddering breath matched Scott’s, as the brunet played with his hard flesh, slowly, sensually, pumping the loose skin up and down the solid core, until the Canadian thought he would lose it all right then and there.  Intoxicating little spasms surged all through his body with a heady rush, and eagerly he gripped Summers’ cock to reciprocate.

 Then forcing Scott’s knees apart even wider, he lay down upon the hard well-muscled body, rumpling Summers’ t-shirt up to the armpits so that they could lie bare skin to bare skin, and firm tits could rub together, while hot loins rocked hard against each other.

 Mouths pressed, tongues intruded, a prelude to more-intimate penetrations forthcoming.  They tasted each other’s breath; tasted each other’s wetness.  Hearts throbbed with nervous tension, while they kissed and kissed any way they could.

 Taking Logan around the waist, Scott’s hand’s smoothed up his ribcage, down his hips, molded and squeezed tensed buttocks, absorbing the sensation of soft slightly-clammy skin, delineation of muscle beneath.  Erotically he kneaded the ass-cheeks, separating them while Logan humped against him, slipped the fingers of one hand into warm cleavage and touched a sensitive anus.

 Logan’s body jerked as though a live wire had stung him, then moving his ass against the feather teasing, he bent his head once more to the task.  Sucked and bit beneath jaw-line, over a vulnerable throat, one side then the other, shoulders, pectoral swells, lips caressing hairless skin.  Desirously Summers writhed under him, rubbed frantic hands all over Logan’s nude body, grabbed fistfuls of hair at the back of his head, dragged rough fingers through thick tousled strands.  Again they kissed, tongues licking eagerly, wetly, lungs pulling deep gulps of night air.

 Finally breaking the kiss, the younger man stole a hot firm lick along an angular jaw, up to an ear, nuzzled into the aural opening.  “Fuck me, Logan” he begged breathily, and licked the captive ear.  “I want you to fuck me.”

“Are you sure…?” Wolverine questioned, still groping two sets of genitals aching with need.  “You sure you’re ready for this, Summers?”

Helplessly Scott bucked responsively to the relentless stimulation.  “God yes…!” he managed to gasp.  “… do it to me, Logan… fuck me… please…!”

“All right, kid,” was all that Logan could manage, and started to maneuver them both into position.

He didn’t see the glint behind ruby visor, however; and without warning, Scott grabbed him, nearly knocking his air out, and wrestled him down on the carpet.  Caught by surprise, Logan went sprawling with the younger man landing on top of him.  Breath shot out in an explosive grunt.  A hand latched onto his wrist, attempted to twist his arm back into a lock.  Skillfully he wriggled out of it before his attacker could incapacitate him, then tussled him down.  Scott laughed with delight as they tumbled together, and he didn’t fight very hard as Logan pinned him from behind, kneed his thighs apart and mounted him.  The naked scuffling had brought both men to full hard erection, both on the verge of climax.

Grasping Scott’s hips, Logan lifted the pale buttocks up, forcing the other man to hunch on elbows and knees.  “Are you real sure now?” he hissed one last challenge in his lover’s ear, running an intimate finger up and down gluteal cleavage.

Summers jerked spasmically, gasped a chuckle.  “You beat me fair and square, Logan.  I’m all yours.”

A tongue burrowed into his ear.  “Good.  Because I’m going to give it to you now.”

And then the finger snuggled into the hot tight orifice, and in a sudden rush of climax, denied too long, unable to hold it back, Scott exploded a burst of warm fluid onto the antique rug. A convulsion of exquisite pleasure rippled through his body as the huskier man held onto him; hips lurched to expel a second burst from his loins, before he crumpled to the floor in exhaustion. Again Logan pulled his hips up, then spreading the sweat-slicked ass with both thumbs, nudged his rigid prod into the tight hole. Erotic pain of penetration dragged a sharp intake of breath between Scott’s clenched teeth, as he felt the thick intruder squeeze and buck its way inch by inch into moist warm channel. A strong hand reached under him, found one erect tit, tweaked it, pinched it until Summers squirmed in pleasure/pain and wriggled back onto the invasive cock. Then the other hand slid down his groin and grabbed hold of his softening genitals, pumping and manipulating the handful, rubbing the dribbling semen all over the sensitive flesh, pulled and tugged, worked the swollen scrotal sac like clay, almost being rough with it; and beneath the demanding stimulation, Scott felt himself grow hard again.

Logan’s erection pounded into him; the half-wild man panted with the exertion. Holding onto Summer’s privates for leverage as he rammed home time and time again, he slipped the other hand from his partner’s nipples down to the smooth wet ass again, and smacked one buttock smartly, once, twice; and Scott grunted and lurched in surprise.

Logan bent over him, chest against Scott’s smooth muscled back, lips nipped the skin of his neck. At the sensitive stimulation, an icy tingle spidered out Scott’s nerves, and he quivered, while kisses tongued and sucked across his shoulders, down his hunched spine. He could feel the older man’s long bulk filling him tightly, rubbing vigorously in and out of the slick sheath, nudging his prostate, could hear heavy grunts moaning from his lover’s throat, more and more desperate the faster Logan rode him. The gruff man was gasping noisily through his mouth now, pounding toward completion, rocking Scott’s body with each hard pistoning stroke, as his hand continued to pump the vein-laced skin of Scott’s reviving cock.

Need rose again in Scott’s blood, and he couldn’t help but start slamming back on the deep penetration, squirming to increase the rough masturbation. Sweat oozed from two laboring bodies as they strained that last inch toward climax. Then suddenly Logan grunted hard, clutching captive hips to his thrusting loins, and exploded his hot load into the moist dark hole, forced Scott onto him as tightly as they could fit together. The gush of wetness deep in his entrails triggered Scott’s second orgasm, and he spattered white droplets of fluid onto the carpet around his knees and elbows and hands. The convulsive clenching of his anus around his lover’s pulsing organ coaxed another burst from Logan; and momentarily neither man was aware of anything but blinding driving pleasure appropriating their conscious minds for long seconds of ecstasy.

“God, Logan,” Scott gasped, when they had gained some semblance of normality, stripping off his sweat-soaked t-shirt, then just lie there panting and resting. “Damn, I can’t remember fucking like that since… I don’t know when…” Hands folded beneath his head, he gazed up at the high-vaulted ceiling.

Logan lay face-down beside him, an arm across Scott’s chest, breathing hard. “How do you feel?”

A playful grin stole across fair features. “Drained. Totally dragged out… and sorer than hell. I feel like I just got a steel pipe rammed up my ass…”

Logan grinned. “That good, huh?”

Eyes closed, Summers smiled contentedly. Blond-brown strands stuck sweat-plastered to his brow. “Maybe… when we can walk, we’ll go shower, and get me some aspirin, then go to bed. Tell you the truth,” he continued, “I wouldn’t even mind just sleeping here on the floor for the rest of the night.”

Logan just grumbled. “Old man like me won’t be able to walk at all if I spend the whole night on the floor.” Rolling toward his lover, Logan reached out a hand. Gently his fingers described circles around one of Scott’s nipples. “But if that’s what you want, kid.”

Eyes lit mischievously behind ruby crystal. “What I want is that steel pipe up my ass again,” the taller man announced.

“Oh, you’ll get it,” Logan promised, rolling onto his back, arms beneath his head, mirroring Scott’s pose, “… just as soon as my body decides to function again.”

Together they lay there, letting the air-conditioning dry the sweat from their bodies, letting silence draw in around them. Neither moved for a long time, content to just enjoy each other lying close. Comfort and serenity settled between them.

Finally Logan broke the silence, voice still husky from the total rough consummation. “Summers… you ain’t gonna go all soft and female on me tomorrow are ya – saying that you’re having second thoughts… that maybe we shouldn’t have done this?”

Scott grinned. “Not on your life. However, if I ever do, you have my permission to slap the snot out of me.”

“And don’t think I won’t,” the other man promised.

“Speaking of which,” Scott continued, but didn’t move a muscle, “we better clean up any stains on this carpet, or the professor will smack the living tar out of us, nevermind your claws and my eyes…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Logan agreed, and continued to lie there. “But crap, Summers, can’t you just for once, forget about being a compulsive prig, and just enjoy this?”

At that, Scott turned to look at him, thought for a moment then nodded decisively. “Yeah, maybe I can.” And staring back up at the ceiling, hands folded under head, he announced, “You know, I think it’s time for some big changes in my life.”

Logan could only agree. “You ‘n’ me both, kid… you ‘n’ me both.”

  
* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *

 


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